by Jasmine Walt
“Hireld!” the woman cried, a joyous sound, and I opened my eyes to see her standing above us, dark eyes filled with relief as she cradled her child. I looked down to see that Hireld’s eyes were open, the color returned to his face.
“Thank you,” he began, looking up at me, and then his eyes widened in fear. Before I knew what was happening, he had scrambled to his hands and knees, bowing profusely. “My Lord.”
It was only then that I realized the pair of hands on my shoulders was real, and that Iannis was standing behind me. Slowly, I lifted my head to look up at him. His expression was grave, but not unkind, as he surveyed the man and his family.
“Thank you, but it’s quite all right,” he said as the rest of them began to bow, holding up a hand. “I did not come here for that. I came to ensure the residents here were safe and to help anyone who needed assistance.”
“The child,” I said, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded. Iannis let go of my shoulders, and I stiffened my core to keep myself from swaying. Damn, but I was weak as kitten.
“Go,” he told me, using mindspeak. “I’ll take care of the child. And next time, perhaps, don’t attempt dangerous magic without contacting your master first.”
“Sorry,” I snapped, a little annoyed at the scolding. “I’ll make sure to run off and find you the next time I come across a dying man.”
“You could have contacted me mentally,” he observed as he took the child and laid her carefully across the grass. “I was close enough, and you knew it.”
I sighed. “Fine, fine,” I muttered, turning away. I was too tired to argue, and besides, he was right. I could have called him for help. I just hadn’t thought to.
“Be safe, Sunaya,” he told me, his voice softer now, and I felt guilty for snapping at him. He had to be exhausted – I doubted he’d slept since we’d arrived back at Solantha, and here he was, about to heal a little girl with a nasty burn that was going to hurt him like hell.
“You too,” I said, turning the corner, and then I disappeared into the shadows.
11
Furious beyond belief at the Resistance, I wanted to do nothing more than chase down the bastards who’d set fire to the airship yard and pummel them into a bloody heap. But after my impromptu healing attempt, I was running on fumes, and I was going to be good to no one if I didn’t take a break.
Resigned to the fact that I needed a nap, I managed to drag myself into a small, abandoned house. After determining there were no squatters hiding in there, I dragged a blanket and pillow into a closet and crashed for a good hour. It wasn’t enough to recharge me completely, especially not without food, but it was enough to give me a little boost.
The fridge in the house held nothing but sour milk and rancid beef, so I changed back into the teenage boy and went out, searching for food. Most of the market shops in Maintown had closed down, their storefronts smashed in and their innards cleaned out by desperate looters, but I eventually found a small store on the eastern section that was still open. The left side had been boarded up, and the wooden stands that had probably once held fruits and vegetables had been smashed to bits, but a beam of light cut through the door and onto the street, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.
I pushed open the door, and a bell jangled as I stepped inside. There were only a few aisles, and a row of glass refrigerators on the right wall. A quick glance told me supplies were running low – many of the shelves were empty. To my left, behind the counter, stood a man in a grocer’s apron. His shoulders stiffened momentarily before he realized I was a harmless teen and relaxed. He was a stocky, balding guy with brown hair and a ruddy, tough-looking face. But the lines in his face suggested that he was more accustomed to laughing than scowling, even if he was shaped like a barrel and looked like he had no problem being intimidating when he wanted to be.
“Hey old man,” I said easily, wandering up to the counter. “Got anything to eat around here?”
He gave me the beady eye. “You payin’?”
I pulled a pandanum coin from my pocket – the shifter-friendly version of silver. “Sure, if the price is right.”
The man sighed, running thick, stubby fingers through what was left of his hair. “I ain’t got much,” he admitted, scanning the store with his mud-brown eyes. “What with the Port being closed off, and local farmers afraid to bring their wares up to town, supplies are scarce. But we’ve still got some tins of mystery meat.”
Ugh. I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose. “I’ll take them.”
“Right this way.” The man led me to the third aisle and pointed to a small stack of cans on the top shelf. “That’s all we’ve got left.”
“It’ll work.” I plucked one of the tins off the shelf, then paused as I caught sight of the company name. Timbran’s Gourmet Food. I snorted – there was nothing gourmet about mystery meat – then remembered where I’d seen the company name before. It was on the much larger cans of food Annia and I had served to the Resistance camp back in Mexia.
“Any idea where this company is located?” I asked, tapping the front of the tin.
The grocer squinted at the label. “Timbran’s? They’ve got a factory up north, about ten miles from Turain. Why?”
I shrugged. “Just curious.”
I grabbed the rest of the cans, then returned to the counter so that the grocer could bag them and ring up the sale. As he did so, I drummed my fingers on the counter, considering. Was Timbran’s a clue of any kind? I had wondered how the Resistance was getting their supplies. They’d seemed to have ample food at the camp, which was surprising considering its remote location. ‘Follow the money’ was a phrase Roanas had often repeated to himself when he was on a case, and that applied here too. How was the Resistance being funded and supplied? Might it be possible to follow their money trail back to the source through the distributors they dealt with, like Timbran’s?
Just as I was accepting my change from the grocer, the front door crashed open, and three human thugs stormed in, wielding bats.
“Give it up, old man!” shouted the one in the lead, a thickset blond with bulging biceps. He smacked his bat in his meaty palms as his two cronies split up, shoving food and supplies into large burlap sacks they’d brought in with them. “Looks like your son isn’t here to help fend us off this time, is he?”
“You scum,” the grocer roared, pulling a bat of his own from beneath the counter. He lifted it, clearly prepared to defend his store, but fear shone in his eyes, and his ruddy face had turned pale. “I’m not going to let you take my stuff!”
“Oh yeah?” The thug moved in. “And who’s gonna stop us?”
I stepped between the two of them, squaring my thin, teenage-boy shoulders. “I am.”
The thug laughed. “Get out of the way before you get hurt, kid.” He swung at me with the bat.
I shot forward, closing the gap between us too fast for him to hit me with the business end of the bat, then grabbed both arms and pivoted, throwing him over my hip. He slapped his left hand on the ground, dispersing the blow, but I had his right arm with the bat clutched in his fist, and I brought his elbow down on my knee, bending his arm the wrong way. There was a loud crunch. He screamed, and the bat clattered to the ground.
“What the fuck?” Crony Two yelped as their leader began wailing pitifully. “Who the hell is this kid?” His half-full burlap sack had slipped from his hands, and his bat was trailing on the floor as he gaped at me.
I grinned and dropped my illusion, allowing them to see who I really was. Crony Three actually gasped, then dropped his bag and made a run for it. Before he could take more than three steps, I snatched one of my mystery meat cans and flung it at the back of his head.
He dropped like a stone.
“I’m not a kid,” I said to a now-shaking Crony Two. I grabbed the bat Crony One had dropped, jumped across the row of shelves separating us, and started swinging.
***
“I really appreciate you beating up those hooligans,” the g
rocer said as he snapped the reins of the cart he was driving. He’d introduced himself as Gorden Matthes after the little incident with the looters.
The dappled grey horse let out a snort, then picked up the pace, hooves clopping against the pavement as it dragged the cart behind it.
“No problem.” I looked back at said hooligans, who were securely trussed up and tossed into the back of the cart. “You said this isn’t the first time they’ve come to your shop?”
Gorden shook his head. “They’ve tried it once before, but, luckily, my son was there, and he’s a big guy, bigger than even them. They’re bullies, not used to an actual challenge, so they backed off pretty easy once they saw we meant business.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” I shook my head a little. Those thugs – little more than overgrown kids, really – had been ridiculously easy to beat. They were used to scaring their opponents into submission, and had little fighting experience that didn’t consist of simply throwing their weight around. “So I’m guessing you’re not the first store they’ve hit, then?”
Gorden snorted. “Not even close. There’s a reason so many shops in Maintown are closed now. With the Enforcers Guild essentially deciding to go on strike, there was no one to answer our calls for help. Until you, anyway.”
“That’s changed now,” I said, trying not to grit my teeth in anger at the selfish decision the Guild had made in Iannis’s absence. “The Enforcers Guild has just agreed to police the looting and start going after criminals again.” Which was, of course, why I was having him drop me off at the Guild with the thugs I’d apprehended. I fully intended on cashing in on that double bounty Iannis was offering.
“I can see that.” He glanced sideways at me. “Why are you disguised like that, by the way? I don’t see how you can do your job as an enforcer if you don’t look like one.”
I sighed a little, leaning back against the bench seat. “The Resistance is determined to kill me for getting in their way. It’s not safe for me to go out in public wearing my own skin.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not going to rat me out, are you?”
“Nah. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”
I relaxed a little – the man was being truthful. “All right. I’ll make sure the Guild sends extra enforcers your way to patrol, so that guys like this don’t bother you again.”
“Appreciate it.”
Using my claws, I sliced open another can of mystery meat – I’d gone through three already – then chowed it down, doing my best to ignore the taste as we finished the journey. To my sensitive nose, the contents were no real mystery. Half mutton, half pork, with a lacing of chickpea and seasoning. Not exactly tasty, but filling enough.
I asked Gorden to pull up at the back entrance of the Guild, where criminals were usually received. Five enforcers stood guard outside the metal door, more than twice the usual number, and they eyed us with suspicion as I jumped out of the cart and went around the back of it.
“Stop right there,” one of them called. He stepped away from the building, his hand on the hilt of his sword as he approached the cart. “Who are you, and what business do you have here?”
“I’m a licensed enforcer bringing in some thugs I caught in the middle of a robbery.” I grabbed Crony Two by the back of his collar and hauled him upright. He groaned, cracking open a black eye to stare blearily at us, then whimpered when I dropped him back into the cart. “Mind giving me a hand with these guys and signing for the receipt?”
The enforcer’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way a scrawny kid like you would be accepted into the Guild, and definitely no way you could have apprehended these guys by yourself. Where’s your help, kid? It’s hardly the old man driving the cart.”
I hissed, baring my all-too human teeth. “I’m Sunaya Baine, you jackass, and I’m here undercover.” I dropped my teenage-boy voice, and the guard’s eyes widened. “Stop trying to have a pissing contest with me, and let me in.”
The guard hesitated, then turned to address Gorden. “You say these are robbers?”
Gorden turned. “Yeah. They tried to loot my store. Gorden’s Grocery in Maintown.” His eyes narrowed. “You know the place. I’ve seen you in my store before.”
“Umm, yeah.” The enforcer scratched his head. “Your wife makes some pretty good sandwiches.”
“Damn right. Now are you going to let us through, or should we just untie these bastards and let them go cause more trouble?”
“Wait a moment.” The enforcer turned smartly on his heel, then went back to the door to confer with his buddies. He returned with two of them a moment later. “We’ll help you get them inside.”
“Thanks.” I flipped down the rear gate of the cart, then jumped in and grabbed one of the thugs. I only had one pair of cuffs, so I’d had to restrain the other two with good old-fashioned rope, but it did the job well enough.
“I’ll take him,” one of the enforcers said firmly as I dragged the first man off the cart and forced him onto his feet.
“Okay then.” I held up my hands as he grabbed the thug from me and began perp walking him into the building. The other two enforcers manhandled the remaining prisoners, and I was left with little to do but shove my hands into my pockets and follow them inside.
“Not so fast.” The two enforcers who’d been holding the rear doors open closed ranks, blocking the entrance. “We can’t let you through until you properly identify yourself.”
“I already have,” I growled. “I’m Sunaya Baine, registered member of the Enforcers Guild.”
“That’s all well and good, but how do we know you’re not some Resistance spy who’s got good voice-acting skills?” The one on the left, a burly guy with curly, chestnut hair, scowled. “We need visual confirmation that you’re one of us.”
“You guys are assholes,” I snarled. “You know it’s me. Why won’t you just let me through?”
“What, are you too afraid to show yourself?” the other guard, a blond, asked with a smirk, and I bristled. “I guess that makes sense – must have been humiliating to have your ass tossed out of here earlier today.”
My cheeks flamed, and before I could think better of it, I dropped the illusion, allowing them to see my real form. “There,” I growled, grabbing the blond by the collar and sticking my nose into his face. “Is that good enough for you?”
A crack rent the air, and I cried out as burning pain ripped through my right shoulder. The blond enforcer’s head jerked as blood bloomed over his chest, then his knees buckled as he dropped like a stone.
A bullet wound, I realized, dazed. Someone had tried to kill me, and they got this guy instead. With a shot to the heart.
“Get inside!” the other enforcer roared, grabbing me by the arm and hauling me through the entrance. He slammed the steel doors behind him, and the sound brought reality rushing back to me.
“Gorden,” I cried, turning back around. I wrenched open the door, heedless of the other enforcer’s warning. Gorden was out of the cart, sprinting for the doors as fast as he could manage, eyes wide with panic. “Come on!” I screamed.
He was five feet away when he went down – a shot to the back of the head. A scream of denial tore through the night, and I realized it came from my throat. I tried to run to the fallen man, to check and see if it was a mistake, if he was still alive, but the other enforcer grabbed the door and slammed it shut, then drew the heavy bolt with shaking fingers. “Stop!” he shouted at me. “He’s already dead.”
I whirled around to face him, murder in my heart. “Yes, and it’s your fault,” I screeched, launching myself at him. The man reached for his sword, but he was only human, and I was too fast and too strong for him. Before he could do more than grip the hilt, I’d slammed him against the ground, my legs clamping around him so he couldn’t easily get away.
“You stupid bastard,” I yelled, pummeling him with my fists. He tried blocking my blows with his arms, then cried out when I started slashing at his unprotected flesh with my claws. �
��You killed that innocent man!” I plowed my fist into his face and heard the ridiculously satisfying crunch of his nose breaking beneath my knuckles. I was out of control, my rage burning fast and hot now that it finally had an outlet, and damn, it felt good.
So then, why were tears running down my face?
I paused at the sound of sobs, and I realized they were coming from me. The man beneath me was trembling with pain and fear, but so was I, guilt and anger so thick against my chest I could hardly breathe.
I’m out of control, I realized numbly. Succumbing to my volatile shifter emotions instead of using reason. Yes, this man deserved to be punished, but if I continued beating on him, I would kill him. And the Resistance had caused enough death as it was. I didn’t need to coat my hands with a fellow enforcer’s blood.
Sensing weakness, the enforcer bucked his hips, and in the next second, had flipped us over. The breath whooshed out of me as I landed hard on my back with all his weight bearing down on me, and I instinctively bucked as fear spiked in my chest. But between the bullet wound, the constant illusion magic, and the fighting, my strength was starting to wane. I didn’t have much left in me to resist when he grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head into the concrete floor. Spots danced in my vision, but I was still conscious, so he did it again. And then, I was out.
12
I wasn’t sure how long I was unconscious, but it wasn’t long enough. I came awake with a splitting headache and a throbbing pain in my shoulder, then immediately rolled over and hurled mystery meat over the side of the cot I was lying on.
“I’m glad I thought to put a bucket there,” Captain Galling said dryly. My eyes watered as I heaved out my guts, so I couldn’t see him, but I had the impression he was sitting behind his desk, watching me humiliate myself in front of him. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t be feeling so good.”